"I simply love to go fishing," she
said softly.
"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I
think, myself."
Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it--at
least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him.
"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a
disappointed child.
I saw the Gay Lady look at her. The Skeptic glanced at the Gay Lady. I
observed the Skeptic. But the Philosopher rose to the occasion. He is
invariably courteous.
"Why, certainly," he responded, "if you would really care to go. It's
rather a long walk to the stream and--I'm afraid the boat leaks
considerably, but----"
"Oh, I don't mind that," she exulted, jumping up, her cheeks pink with
delight. "In fact, I know that boat of old----" She gave the Skeptic a
look from under her eyelashes, but he was looking at the Gay Lady and it
failed to hit him. "Are you ready? All right. And I've my
sunbonnet--just the thing. You shall see what we'll catch," she called
back to us, as the two walked away.
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